Barbarism  1 1) c first  0 auger 


A 


DISCOURSE 


FOR 


HOME  MISSIONS, 


BV 


HORACE  BUSHNELL, 

pastor  of  the  north  ceurce.  Hartford, Cokh 


N EW- YORK: 

PRINTED  FOR  THE  AMERICAN  HOME  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY. 
BY  WILLIAM  OSBORN,  SPRUCE-STREET,  CORNER  OF  NASSAU. 


18  4 7 


The  following  Discourse  was  delivered  in  New-York,  Boston  and 
other  places,  in  May  and  June,  1S47,  and  is  now  yielded  to  the  Ameri- 
can Home  Missionary  Society,  in  whose  behalf  it  was  prepared,  for 
publication. 


H.  B. 


DISCOURSE. 


JUDGES  XVII.  13. 

THEN  SAID  M1CAH,  NOW  KNOW  I THAT  TIIE  LOUD  WILL  DO  ME  GOOD,  SEEING  I HAVE 
A LEVITE  TO  MV  PRIEST. 


A very  unimportant  chapter  of  biography  is  here  pre- 
served to  us — save  that  if  we  take  the  subject  as  an  ex- 
ponent of  his  times,  we  shall  find  a serious  and  mo- 
mentous truth  illustrated  in  his  conduct.  He  lives  in  the 
time  of  the  Judges,  that  is,  in  the  emigrant  age  of  Israel.  It 
is  the  time,  when  his  nation  are  passing  through  the  struggles 
incident  to  a new  settlement,  a time  therefore  of  decline  to- 
wards barbarism.  Public  security  is  gone.  The  people 
have  run  wild.  Superstition  has  dislodged  the  clear  sove- 
reignty of  reason.  Forms  are  more  sacred  than  duties, 
and  a costly  church  furniture  is  taken  as  synonymous  with 
a godly  life.  It  is  at  just  such  times  that  we  are  to  look 
for  the  union  of  great  crimes  and  scrupulous  acts  of  devotion. 
The  villain  and  the  saint  coalesce,  without  difficulty,  in  one 
and  the  same  character ; and  superstition,  which  delights 
in  absurdities,  hides  the  imposture  from  him  who  suffers 
it.  Thus  Micah  enters  on  the  stage  of  history  as  a thief, 
having  stolen  eleven  hundred  shekels  of  silver  from  his 
mother  ; but  before  the  scene  closes,  he  becomes,  at  least 
in  his  own  view,  quite  a saint ; and  that  too,  if  we  may 
judge,  without  any  great  detriment  to  his  former  cha- 
racter. 

Finding  that  his  mother  has  invoked  a solemn  curse 
upon  the  thief,  whoever  he  may  be,  that  has  stolen  her 
money ; and  also,  which  is  more  frightful  still,  that  she 

1 


4 


had  actually  dedicated  the  money,  before  it  was  stolen,  to 
a religious  use,  even  to  make  a molten  image  for  himself, 
the  superstitious  fancy  of  the  barbarian  begins  to  worry  his 
peace.  To  have  stolen  the  money  was  nothing  specially 
dreadful,  but  to  have  a parent’s  curse  hanging  over  his 
head,  and  sacred  money  hid  in  his  house — both  consider- 
ed to  involve  the  certainty  of  some  impending  mischief 
that  is  fatal — is  more  than  he  has  courage  to  support. 
Moved,  of  course,  by  no  ingenuous  and  dignified  spirit  of 
repentance,  but  only  by  a drivelling  superstition,  he  goes 
to  his  mother  and  chokes  out  his  confession,  saying  : “ The 
silver  is  with  me,  I took  it”  ! And  what  a beautiful  evi- 
dence of  piety,  thinks  the  glad  mother,  that  her  Micah 
was  afraid  to  keep  the  sacred  money  ! So  she  pours  out 
her  dear  blessing  on  him,  saying  : “ Blessed  be  thou  of  the 
Lord,  my  son”  ! Then  she  takes  the  silver  and  from  it  has 
a molten  image  cast  for  her  worthy  and  hopeful  son,  which 
he  sets  up  in  “ the  house  of  Ins  gods,”  among  the  tera- 
phim  and  other  trumpery  there  collected.  And  as  Micah 
is  now  growing  religious,  he  must  also  have  a priest. 
First,  he  consecrates  his  own  son ; but  his  son  not  being  a 
Levite,  it  was  difficult  for  so  pious  a man  to  be  satisfied. 
Fortunately,  a young  Levite — a strolling  mendicant  pro- 
bably— comes  that  way,  and  he  promptly  engages  the  youth 
to  remain  and  act  the  padre  for  him,  saying  : “ Dwell  with 
me  and  be  a.  father  unto  me.”  Having  thus  got  up  a reli- 
gion, the  thief  is  content,  and  his  mental  troubles  are  quiet- 
ed. Becoming  a Romanist  before  Rome  is  founded,  he 
says  : “ Now  know  I that  the  Lord  will  do  me  good, 
seeing  l have  a Levite  to  my  priest.-'  'That  it  would 
do  him  any  good  to  be  a better  man,  docs  not  appear  to 
have  occurred  to  him.  Religion,  to  him,  consisted  rather 
in  a line  silver  apparatus  of  gods  and  a priest  in  regular 
succession ! 

Set  now  the  picture  in  its  frame,  the  man  in  connection 
with  his  times,  and  you  have  in  exhibition  a great  practi- 
cal truth,  which  demands  your  earnest  study.  Nothing  is 
more  certain, as  you  may  see  in  this  example  of  Micah  and 
his  times,  than  that  emigration,  or  a new  settlement  of 
the  social  state,  invoices  a tendency  to  social  decline. 
There  must,  in  every  such  case,  be  a relapse  towards  bar- 


barism,  more  or  less  protracted,  more  or  less  complete. 
Commonly,  nothing  but  extraordinary  efforts  in  behalf  of 
education  and  religion,  will  suffice  to  prevent  a fatal  lapse 
of  social  order.  Apart  from  this  great  truth,  clearly  seen  as 
enveloped  in  the  practical  struggles  of  our  American  history, 
no  one  can  understand  its  real  import,  the  problem  it  involves, 
or  the  position  at  which  we  have  now  arrived.  Least  of 
all,  can  he  understand  the  sublime  relation  of  home  mis- 
sions, and  other  like  enterprises,  to  the  unknown  future 
of  our  great  nation.  He  must  know  that  we  are  a people 
trying  out  the  perils  incident  to  a new  settlement  of  the 
social  state  ; he  must  behold  religion  passing  out  into  the 
wilds  of  nature  with  us,  to  fortify  law,  industry  and  good 
manners,  and  bear  up  our  otherwise  declining  fortunes, 
till  we  become  an  established  and  fully  cultivated  people. 
Just  here,  hang  all  the  struggles  of  our  history  for  the  two 
centuries  now  past,  and  for  at  least  another  century  to 
come. 

We  shall  also  discover,  in  pursuing  our  subject,  in  what 
manner  we  are  to  apprehend  danger  from  the  spread  of 
Romanism.  If  you  seem  to  struggle,  in  this  matter  of  Ro- 
manism, with  contrary  convictions  ; to  see  reason  in  the 
alarms  urged  upon  you  so  frequently,  and  yet  feel  it  to  be 
the  greatest  unreason  to  fear  the  prevalence  here  of  a re- 
ligion so  distinctively  opposite  to  our  character  and  institu- 
tions ; if  you  waver  between  a feeling  of  panic  and  a feel- 
ing of  derision  ; if  you  are  half  frighted  by  the  cry  of  Ro- 
manism, and  half  scorn  it  as  a bugbear  ; you  will  be  able  to 
settle  yourself  into  a sober  and  fixed  opinion  of  the  subject, 
when  you  perceive  that  we  are  in  danger,  first,  of  something 
far  worse  than  Romanism,  and  through  that  of  Romanism 
itself.  Our  first  danger  is  barbarism — Romanism 
next ; for  before  we  can  think  it  a religion,  to  have  a 
Levite  to  our  priest,  we  must  bring  back  the  times  of  the 
Judges.  Let  us  empty  ourselves  of  our  character,  let  us 
fall  into  superstition,  through  the  ignorance,  wildness  and 
social  confusion  incident  to  a migratory  habit  and  a rapid 
succession  of  new  settlements,  and  Romanism  will  find 
us  just  where  character  leaves  us.  The  real  danger  is 
the  prior.  Taking  care  of  that  we  are  safe.  Sleeping  over 
that,  nothing  ought  to  save  us  ; for  if  we  must  have  a 


6 


wild  race  of  nomads  roaming  over  the  vast  western  terri- 
tories  of  our  land — a race  without  education,  law,  manners 
or  religion — we  need  not  trouble  ourselves  farther  on  ac- 
count of  Romanism  ; for  to  such  a people,  Romanism,  bad 
as  it  is,  will  come  as  a blessing. 

I shall  recur  to  this  question  of  Romanism  again.  I 
only  name  it  here  as  a preliminary,  that  may  assist  you  to 
apprehend  the  true  import  of  my  subject.  Let  us  now 
proceed  to  the  question  itself,  How  far  emigration  and  a 
continual  re-settlement,  as  in  this  country,  involves  a ten- 
dency to  moral  and  social  disorganization  ? In  the  dis- 
cussion of  this  question,  I shall  draw  principally  on  the 
facts  of  history  ; I only  suggest  here,  as  a preparative  and 
key  to  the  facts  that  may  be  cited,  a few  of  the  reasons 
why  such  a decline  is  likely  to  appear. 

First  of  all,  the  society  transplanted,  in  a case  of  emi- 
gration, cannot  carry  its  roots  with  it ; for  society  is  a vital 
creature,  having  roots  of  antiquity,  which  inhere  in  the 
very  soil — in  the  spots  consecrated  by  valor,  by  genius 
and  by  religion.  Transplanted  to  a new  field,  the  emi- 
grant race  lose,  of  necessity,  a considerable  portion  of  that 
vital  force  which  is  the  organific  and  conserving  power  of 
society.  All  the  old  roots  of  local  love  and  historic  feeling — 
the  joints  and  bands  that  minister  nourishment — are  left 
behind  ; and  nothing  remains  to  organize  a living  growth, 
but  the  two  unimportant  incidents,  proximity  and  a com- 
mon interest. 

Education  must,  for  a long  time,  be  imperfect  in  degree 
and  partial  in  extent.  There  is  no  literary  atmosphere 
breathing  through  the  forests  or  across  the  prairies.  The 
colleges,  if  any  they  have,  are  only  rudimental  beginnings, 
and  the  youth  a raw  company  of  woodsmen.  Hurried 
into  life,  at  the  bar,  or  in  the  pulpit,  when  as  yet  they  are 
only  half  educated,  their  performances  are  crude  in  the 
matter  and  rough  iu  the  form.  No  matter  how  cultivated 
the  professional  men  of  the  first  age,  those  of  the  second, 
third  and  fourth  will  mix  up  extravagance  and  cant  in  all 
their  demonstrations,  and  will  be  acceptable  to  the  people 
partly  for  that  reason.  For  the  immense  labors  and 
rough  hardships  necessary  to  be  encountered,  in  the  way 


7 


of  providing  the  means  of  living,  will  ordinarily  create  in 
them  a rough  and  partially  wild  habit. 

Then,  as  their  tastes  grow  wild,  their  resentments  will 
grow  violent  and  their  enjoyments  coarse.  The  salutary 
restraints  of  society  being,  to  a great  extent,  removed,  they 
will  think  it  no  degradation  to  do  before  the  woods  and 
wild  animals,  what,  in  the  presence  of  a cultivated  social 
state,  they  would  blush  to  perpetrate.  They  are  likely 
even  to  look  upon  the  indulgence  of  low  vices  and  brutal 
ploasures,  as  the  necessary  garnish  of  their  life  of  ad- 
venture. 

In  religion,  their  views  will,  of  course,  be  narrow  and 
crude,  and  their  animosities  bitter.  Sometimes  the  very 
life  of  religion  will  seem  about  to  die,  as  it  actually  would, 
save  that  some  occasional  outburst  of  over-wrought  feel- 
ing  or  fanatical  zeal  kindles  a temporary  fire.  Probably 
it  will  be  found  that  low  superstitions  begin  to  creep  in,  a 
regarding  of  dreams,  a faith  in  the  presentation  of  scrip- 
ture texts,  in  apparitions  and  visions,  perhaps  also  in 
necromancy. 

Mean  time,  if  we  speak  of  civil  order,  it  will  probably 
be  found  that  the  old  common  law  of  the  race  is  not  trans- 
planted as  a vital  power,  but  only  as  a recollection  that 
refuses  to  live,  because  of  the  newness  of  the  soil,  and 
the  varied  circumstances  which,  in  so  many  ways,  render 
it  inapplicable.  It  asks  for  loyalty  where  there  is  no  de- 
mesne, offers  a jury  before  there  is  a court,  and  sancti- 
fies a magnet  charta  where  no  plain  of  Runnymede  is  ever 
to  be  known.  Hence,  the  need  of  much  new  legislation, 
consequently  much  of  confusion  and  a considerable  lapse 
of  time,  before  the  new  body  of  law,  with  its  tribunals  and 
uses,  can  erect  its  trunk  and  grow  up  into  life  from  a na- 
tive root.  Mean  time  it  is  well,  if  the  social  wildness  and 
the  violent  resentments  of  the  people  do  not  break  over 
all  the  barriers  of  legal  restraint,  and  dissolve  the  very 
bonds  of  order. 

If  now,  beside  all  the  causes  here  enumerated,  the 
emigrants  are  much  involved  in  war  to  maintain  their  pos- 
sessions, or  if  they  are  gathered  from  many  nations  hav- 
ing different  languages,  laws,  manners  and  religions,  the 
tendency  to  social  decline  is,  of  course,  greatly  aggravated. 


8 


Indeed,  where  all  the  forms  of  habit,  prejudice  and  opinion 
are  found  to  impinge  upon  each  other,  and  every  recol- 
lection of  the  past,  every  peculiar  trait  of  national  feeling 
and  personal  character  requires  to  be  obliterated,  before  it 
is  possible  for  the  new  elements  to  coalesce,  what  can 
save  a people,  we  are  tempted  to  ask,  from  being  precipi- 
tated downward  even  below  society  itself? 

Having  glanced,  in  this  rapid  manner,  at  the  causes  of 
decline  theoretically  involved  in  emigration,  (for  emigra- 
tion works  no  mischief  by  itself,  but  only  as  it  provokes 
the  malignant  action  of  other  causes,)  let  us  now  pass 
to  some  historic  illustrations.  And  I begin  with  the  emi- 
gration headed  by  Abraham,  where  the  facts  are  already 
familiar,  so  that  when  you  are  engaged  in  tracing  their  im- 
port as  illustrations  of  my  subject,  your  minds  will  be  dis- 
tracted by  no  effort  of  attention  to  conceive  the  facts  them- 
selves. 

There  was  never  an  emigration  conducted  under  bet- 
ter auspices.  As  in  the  original  settlement  of  New  Eng- 
land, the  aim  and  purpose  of  the  movement  were  strict- 
ly religious.  The  emigrants  too,  were  shepherds  in  their 
habit,  never  attached  to  the  soil,  but  accustomed  to  move- 
ment. They  came  out  also  as  a family,  for  Lot  appears 
to  have  been  only  a ward  of  Abraham ; and  in  the  family 
state — which  is  itself  a patriarchate,  the  simplest  and  most 
unquestionable  of  all  governments,  as  it  is  closest  to 
nature — they  had  <a  complete  frame  of  social  order  already 
provided.  Though  trained  as  a nomad  and  manifestly 
ignorant  of  certain  moral  distinctions  familiar  to  us, 
Abraham  yet  evinces,  in  his  character,  a degree  of 
beauty  and  princely  dignity,  such  as  seldom  can  be  found 
under  the  politer  forms  of  civilization.  In  his  heroic  pur- 
suit and  slaughter  of  the  kings  to  rescue  Lot,  in  the  sin- 
gular dignity  of  his  meeting  with  Melchisedec  on  his  re- 
turn, in  the  generous  and  conciliatory  terms  by  which  he 
sought  to  avoid  the  quarrel  already  begun  between  Lot’s 
herdsmen  and  his  own,  in  his  hospitality  at  the  tent  door 
in  Mamre,  in  his  burial  of  Sarah,  in  the  whole  manner  of 
his  life  in  short  there  is  a grand,  massive  nobility  of  cha- 
racter, which,  if  we  cannot  call  it  civilization  or  refine- 


9 


raent,  is  yet  only  so  much  higher  and  more  charming,  as 
it  is  closer  to  nature,  more  original  and  older  than  the 
days  of  accomplished  heartlessness  and  drawing-room  pre- 
tence. It  is  the  pure,  virgin  character  of  a great  and 
primitive  manhood,  which,  in  the  simple,  godly  life  of  the 
east  country,  was  not  yet  spent. 

See  now  what  a mass  of  barbarism  is  shortly  developed 
out  of  this  fair  beginning.  The  character  of  Lot  is  not 
strongly  fortified  by  religious  principle,  and  the  restraints 
of  society  being  now  removed,  he  soon  falls  into  loose 
habits  of  virtue  and,  in  the  end,  brings  himself  and  his 
family  to  a very  sorry  figure.  Thus  out  of  Lot  springs 
the  wild  race  of  the  Moabites,  a race  as  degraded  in  cha- 
racter, as  the  abominable  and  filthy  rites  of  their  god 
Baal  Peor  require  them  to  be — enemies,  of  course,  to  Je- 
hovah and  th.e  kindred  stock  of  Israel,  in  all  after  times. 
The  Ammonites  are  a branch  of  the  same  stock. 

Mean  time,  Abraham  himself  is  throwing  off  upon  the 
world,  in  his  son  Ishmael,  another  stock  of  barbarians. 
Driven  out  with  his  mother,  to  seek  his  fortune  as  he  may, 
among  the  wild  tribes  of  idolaters  that  infest  the  country, 
the  lad,  we  are  told,  grows  up  in  the  wilderness  and  be- 
comes an  archer.  By  which  it  appears  that  he  betook  him- 
self to  some  secret  cave  or  fastness,  in  the  south,  and  there, 
by  the  use  of  his  bow  as  a hunter  and  robber,  maintained 
himself,  and  became  the  father  of  the  Bedouin  race. 
There  he  trained  up  the  young  Ishmaelites,  otherwise  call- 
ed Arabs — a name  which,  according  to  some,  signifies 
westerners — a prolific,  talented  and  powerful  race  of  men, 
whose  nature  it  has  been  to  this  hour  to  live  by  plunder, 
whose  hand  is  against  every  man  and  every  man’s  hand 
against  them.  Thus  you  have  another  wild  people,  a 
cruel,  treacherous,  lying  stock  of  thieves  and  idolaters  de- 
veloped out  of  the  emigration. 

One  generation  later,  viz.  : — out  of  the  family  of  Isaac, 
comes  another.  I speak  of  the  persecuted  Esau  and  the 
Idumeans  or  Edomites  descended  of  him.  These  were 
a warlike  and  ferocious  race,  governed  by  dukes  or  great 
captains,  and  for  long  ages  the  sturdiest  of  all  the  ene- 
mies of  Israel. 

It  is  remarkable  too  that,  when  David  is  giving  the  roll, 


10 


in  one  of  his  Psalms,  of  the  great  league  of  nations  that 
were  conspiring,  at  that  time,  against  his  country,  he  puts 
at  the  head  of  all  precisely  these  three  fierce  and  barbar- 
ous people,  descended  of  Terah,  the  common  ancestor  both 
of  them  and  of  his  countrymen.  “ For  they  have  con- 
sulted together  with  one  consent,  they  are  confederate 
against  thee,  the  tabernacles  of  Edom  and  the  Ishmaelites, 
of  Moab  and  the  Hagarenes.”  Then  follow  the  other  na- 
tions who  are  led  by  these. 

Mean  time,  if  we  consider  the  dastardly  conduct  of 
the  ten  brothers  of  Joseph,  who  for  jealousy  sell  him  into 
slavery,  and  then,  by  a solemn  lie,  convince  their  father 
that  he  is  dead — remembering  also  and  holding  in  com- 
parison  Abraham’s  noble  and  magnanimous  treatment  of 
Lot — we  shall  see  that  there  has  certainly  been  a very 
great  falling  off  toAvards  barbarism,  in  the  chosen  family 
itself. 

But  Ave  must  follow  them  further,  even  into  this  book  of 
Judges,  Avhere  they  come  to  make  their  final  settlement 
in  the  land.  In  Egypt  they  had  become  acquainted  with 
agriculture,  Avith  cities  and  the  settled  modes  of  life ; 
though  degraded,  to  some  extent,  by  their  temporary  sub- 
jection to  slavery.  But  their  freedom,  connected  with  their 
strong  legal  discipline  under  Moses,  the  neAV  sentiments 
and  iicav  social  capacities,  which  had  been  formed  under 
this  protracted  discipline  of  forty  years,  during  which  the 
old  generation  of  slavery  had  become  extinct,  had  pre- 
pared them  to  enter  the  country  appointed  and  make  a 
fair  beginning.  They  took  their  places ; for  a time  all 
AAras  well.  Still  they  Avere  a people  without  roots,  and  they 
began,  ere  long,  to  fall  into  social  anarchy.  They  served 
the  Lord  all  the  days  of  Joshua,  and  all  the  days  of  the 
ciders  that  had  overlived  Joshua  and  had  seen  all  the 
great  works  of  the  Lord  that  he  did  for  Israel,  and  Avhen 
that  generation  Avere  gathered  unto  their  fathers — so 
says  the  history — There  arose  another  generation,  which 
kncAv  not  the  Lord,  nor  yet  the  works  which  he  had  done 
for  Israel.  Now  came  the  dark  time;  for  in  every  emi- 
gration, the  moral  and  social  trial  commonly  falls,  not  on 
the  first  generation,  but  more  frequently  on  the  second, 
third  and  fourth.  So  it  Avas  here,  and  it  really  seemed 


11 


that  the  nation  must  utterly  die,  before  it  could  get  root. 
Three  times  it  is  said  in  the  history,  that  “ there  was  no 
king  in  Israel  and  that  every  man  did  what  was  right  in 
his  own  eyes.”  By  which  we  are  to  understand,  not  that 
royalty  was  discontinued,  for  it  had  not  existed  ; but  that 
there  was  no  civil  head,  that  government  was  utterly  dis- 
solved. It  was,  in  truth,  the  paradisaic  age  of  no  gov- 
ernment ; a day  when  they  had  it,  not  for  a theory,  but  for 
a fact.  Wrongs  were  redressed  by  uprisings  of  popular 
impatience,  by  assassination  or  private  revenge.  In  one 
case  of  outrage,  which  may  betaken  doubtless  as  a good 
specimen  of  the  barbarity  of  the  times,  the  tribes  were 
roused  to  vengeance,  in  the  manner  of  a riot,  by  sending 
round,  as  a proclamation,  the  pieces  of  a murdered  wo- 
man’s body ! If  at  any  time  they  had  a government,  it 
was  commonly  the  government  of  a usurper,  who  butch- 
ered, as  he  came  into  power,  after  the  method  of  the 
Turks,  all  the  families  that  had  any  semblance  of  right 
to  civil  precedence,  or  any  possible  hope  of  succession. 
The  roads  were  destroyed,  and  there  was  no  passage 
through  the  country,  save  in  by-ways,  or  across  the  fields 
and  mountains.  The  arts  perished  ; there  was  not  even  a 
smith  left  in  the  land,  and  they  were  obliged  to  go  down 
to  the  Philistines  to  get  an  axe  or  a mattock  sharpened. 
In  one  case,  they  fought  a battle  with  ox  goads,  because 
they  had  no  better  implements.  Their  religion  being  all 
one  with  the  laws,  fell  of  course  into  the  same  confusion 
writh  them.  As  we  see  in  the  case  of  Micah,  Jehovah  and 
the  gods,  all  stand  upon  a par  ! They  have  their  molten 
images  set  up  together  in  “ the  house  of  the  gods,”  to  be 
smoked  by  the  same  incense ; and  Micah’ s Levite  probably 
has  it  for  his  duty  to  practice  before  them  all  ! Such  is 
the  decline  suffered  by  this  emigrant  nation,  in  the  process 
of  colonizing  a new  region  and  building  up  a new  social 
fabric.  But  dismal  as  the  picture  is  to  which  they  have 
descended,  wre  have  it  for  our  comfort,  that  they  are  not 
utterly  lost.  After  they  have  sounded  the  lowest  notes  of 
misery  and  social  debasement,  a Samuel  appears,  collects 
the  scattered  elements,  works  them  gradually  towards  or- 
der, and  the  new  nation,  taking  root,  begins  to  rise. 


12 


Passing  over  now  the  instructive  lessons  that  might 
be  drawn  from  the  Egyptian,  Grecian,  Carthaginian  and 
Roman  colonies,  we  descend  to  the  great  American  ques- 
tion itself.  That  the  Mexican  and  the  South  American 
States  have  actually  lost  ground,  since  the  emigration  ; 
that  they  have  been  descending  steadily  towards  barbar- 
ism, in  the  loss  of  the  old  Castilian  dignity,  in  the  decay  of 
society  and  manners,  and  the  general  prostration  of  order, 
is  well  understood.  But  it  is  commonly  supposed,  I be- 
lieve, that  our  North  American  settlements,  especially  those 
of  New  England,  have  never  suffered  any  similar  retrogra- 
dation  ; that  they  have,  on  the  contrary,  steadily  advanced 
or  ascended  to  their  present  state.  No  impression  could 
be  more  opposite  to  the  real  facts  of  history.  Probably 
never  before  did  any  emigrant  people  resist,  with  so  great 
promptitude  and  effect,  the  inherent  causes  of  decline  in- 
volved in  a new  state  of  society.  Nor  can  it  be  said  that 
the  issue  was  ever  doubtful.  Indeed  I am  not  sure  that, 
if  we  consider  the  rough  amount  of  character  in  the  whole 
community,  any  real  diminution  was  ever  suffered.  For  if 
much  was  lost  in  the  complete  finish  of  the  higher  class, 
something  was  also  gained  in  the  sharpness,  vigor  and 
capacity  of  the  lower.  And  iff  there  was  even  a decay  of 
virtue  and  good  manners  in  all  classes,  there  was  yet  a gain 
in  all,  as  regards  spirit,  self-reliance,  physical  endurance 
and  other  like  traits,  which  are  essential  as  the  staple  of  a 
perfect  manhood.  If  there  was  more  coarseness,  so  possi- 
bly there  was  more  volume.  If  there  was  less  of  learn- 
ing, there  was  also  a more  perfect  deliverance  from  the 
restraints  of  learning.  If  they  had  less  of  society,  they 
had  as  much  more  of  action.  If  they  finished  nothing, 
they  created  more.  But  in  taking  such  a view  as  this, 
which  is  the  most  favorable  permitted  us,  it  is  implied,  as 
will  be  observed  by  all,  that  there  was,  in  certain  very  im- 
portant respects,  a marked  decline. 

This  decline  was  most  evident  in  the  higher  class,  and 
in  the  cultivated  manners  and  tastes,  brought  over  by  the 
emigrant  families.  The  leading  spirits  of  the  first  age 
were  truly  great  and  cultivated  men — cedars  of  Lebanon, 
nay,  the  topmost  branches  of  the  cedars,  that  God  had 
brought  over  to  plant  by  the  waters  of  the  new  world. 


13 


They  were  many  of  them  scholars,  who  had  received  at 
the  English  universities,  the  highest  advantages  of  culture 
furnished  in  that  age.  Their  minds  were  matured  and 
polished  by  severe  study.  They  knew  society.  Some  of 
them  were  persons  who  had  travelled  in  foreign  countries, 
who  had  figured  in  civil  stations  and  were  not  unskilled 
even  as  courtiers.  They  were  fellow  disciples  and  com- 
patriots with  such  men  as  Owen,  Howe,  Milton,  John 
Hampden,  Oliver  Cromwell  and  tin*  other  great  spirits, 
who  were  struggling  in  that  age  for  the  civil  and  religious 
emancipation  of  their  country.  Rut  they  came  into  the  wil- 
derness, as  it  were  to  be  tempted  of  the  devil,  throwing 
themselves  and  their  families,  for  a whole  century  to  come, 
upon  the  severest  struggles  of  toil  and  warfare,  to  provide 
and  fortify  their  new  home.  For  a long  time,  they  had  no 
market.  In  their  modes  of  dress,  their  residences  and 
their  furniture,  they  were  many  of  them  restricted  to  sup- 
plies that  were  coarse  and  rude.  Their  means  of  educa- 
tion for  the  youth  were  defective,  in  that  which  is  neces- 
sary to  a finished  and  really  accomplished  character,  though 
sufficient  to  give  a good  degree  of  rudimental  force.  And, 
more  than  all,  society,  that  indefinable  but  powerful  some- 
thing, which  gives  a tone  of  refinement  to  literary  tastes, 
and  without  which,  feeling  cannot  rise  to  its  highest  dig- 
nity — this  was  a want,  which  no  industry  or  care  could  sup- 
ply. The  trials  and  exposures  were  rough,  the  great  world 
was  far  away,  petty  strifes  and  bickerings — always  en- 
veloped in  the  ill  nature  of  the  race,  but  restrained  among 
a great  people  under  the  established  forms  of  cultivated 
life — broke  out  and  raged  in  their  little  communities.  A 
painful  subsidence  of  manners  soon  began  to  appear.  In 
many  families,  a certian  flavor  of  refinement  passed,  by 
tradition,  and  in  fact  was  never  wholly  spent.  Still  it 
was  evident,  after  the  first  race  was  gone,  and  the  second 
and  third  had  come  into  their  places,  that  character  had 
fallen  to  a lower  type.  The  educated  men  were,  in  com- 
parison, a rude  or,  at  least,  partially  cultivated  race.  Their 
English  style  is  loose.  Elegance,  well  chastened  thought, 
dignity  of  feeling  do  not  appear.  The  spelling  is  even 
more  irregular  and  capricious  than  it  had  been.  And  the 
public  proceedings  of  courts  and  churches,  if  the  records 


14 


are  referred  to,  exhibit  a certain  rawness,  that  is  quite 
characteristic.  We  feel,  in  short,  that  we  have  descended 
to  an  inferior  race.  It  is  somewhat  as  if  a nest  of  eagles 
had  been  filled  with  a brood  of  owls. 

The  decline  of  manners  and  mental  cultivation,  conse- 
quent on  a life  in  the  woods,  carried  with  it  a correspondent 
decline  of  morals  and  religion.  And  the  natural  down- 
ward tendency  was  aggravated,  by  the  wars  in  which  they 
were  compelled  to  engage.  Thus,  after  the  bloody  war 
with  Philip,  the  synod  of  Massachusetts,  convened  to  de- 
liberate on  the  state  of  virtue  and  religion,  set  forth  the 
following  mournful  particulars  : “ a decay  of  godliness 
and  secret  apostasy  among  professors  “ pride  and  con- 
tention a “ want  of  truth  and  promise  breaking  a 
“ neglect  of  family  prayer  “ profane  swearing  “ in- 
temperance “ a common  practice  of  travelling  on  the 
Sabbath  day  “ inordinate  passions  and  breaches  of  the 
seventh  commandment.”  Allowing  all  that  may  be  ne- 
cessary for  exaggeration  in  this  picture,  we  are  still  obliged, 
when  they  speak  of  a common  practice  of  travelling  on 
the  Sabbath  day,  to  acknowledge  that  there  must  have  been 
a very  marked  decline  in  their  moral  habit.  Following 
too  into  the  war  the  four  companies,  for  example,  of  Con- 
necticut Rangers,  we  find  them  quite  at  home  in  the  woods, 
displaying,  in  their  modes  of  warfare  and  their  wild,  rough 
spirit,  the  full  grown  Texan  habit.  On  going  to  the  church 
and  court  records  of  this  period  and  onward,  for  the  next 
fifty  or  seventy  years,  we  discover  mournful  evidences  of 
incontinence,  even  in  the  respectable  families.  As  if, 
being  cut  off  from  the  more  refined  pleasures  of  society, 
their  baser  passions  had  burnt  away  the  restraints  of  deli- 
cacy, and  the  growing  coarseness  of  manners  had  allowed 
them  finally  to  seek,  in  these  baser  passions,  the  spring  of 
their  enjoyments.  Shortly  after  this  war,  the  wretched 
scenes  of  infatuation  enacted  at  Salem,  furnish  us  the 
proof  that  religion  is  dwindling  towards  superstition.  Not 
that  a belief  in  witchcraft  was  peculiar  to  New  England, 
or  to  that  age  of  the  world,  but  only  that  a want  of  thorough 
mental  discipline  in  the  ministry  and  the  courts,  connected 
with  a general  taint  of  superstition  contracted  in  the  woods 
by  the  whole  people,  aggravated  the  public  delusion  and 


15 


finally  suffered  the  whole  body  of  society  to  go  mad,  in 
scenes  which  it  is  even  horrible  to  contemplate. 

Still  the  way  is  downward  till  we  come  to  the  “ great 
revival,”  so  called,  and  the  times  of  the  French  wars. 
And  here  we  find  a period  of  thirty  or  forty  years,  where 
the  dregs  of  decline  and  the  seeds  of  new  life  are  so 
intermixed,  and  the  signs  so  crossed,  one  by  another,  that 
we  hardly  know  what  judgment  to  hold.  Over  and  above 
all  patriotic  motives  that  may  be  conceived,  there  was  a 
readiness  to  enlist  in  these  wars,  that  indicates  an  adven- 
turous and  partially  wild  habit.  The  little  State  of  Con- 
necticut, containing  at  that  time  probably  about  75,000 
people,  raised  and  equipped  over  5,000  men,  for  three 
years  in  succession.  As  might  be  expected,  when  these 
two  wars  were  over,  the  people  were  found  to  be  reduced 
to  a miserable  state  of  poverty,  and,  what  was  yet  worse, 
it  was  also  discovered  that  their  habits  of  industry  and 
virtuous  thrift  had  received  a fatal  shock.  Then  it  was,  that 
the  people  of  New  England  seemed,  for  once,  to  want  a 
spur  to  their  creative  activity,  and  a society  was  organized 
“For  the  Promotion  of  Industry” — a society  which  brought 
out  three  hundred  women  with  their  spinning-wheels  on 
Boston  common,  to  give  an  example  to  the  other  sex,  of  a 
virtue  which  they  had  so  nearly  forgotten.  Mean  time, 
the  whole  community,  I may  almost  say,  was  unconsciously 
steeping  itself  in  drink  ; and  this  also  conspired  with  the 
wars,  to  break  down  the  thrift  of  the  people.  In  Massa- 
chusetts alone,  when  she  had  only  150,000  people,  fifteen 
thousand  hogsheads  of  mm  were  distilled  every  year,  and 
a very  large  share  of  it  was  consumed  by  her  own  citi- 
zens ; a fact  in  which  you  will  see — what  the  living  men  of 
that  day  did  not — a certain  doom  of  decline,  towards  social 
misery  and  brutality. 

At  the  same  time,  when  it  even  seems,  in  one  view,  that 
all  the  foundations  are  dissolved,  and  that  every  hope  of  a 
new  American  civilization  has  perished,  there  begin  to 
rise  symptoms  of  order,  and  possibly  of  a new  era.  If 
the  masses  have  been  unsettled,  they  have  also  been  made 
conscious  of  power.  Or  if  they  have  been  corrupted,  in 
the  same  wars  which  have  robbed  them  of  their  virtuous 
habits,  certain  great  men,  afterwards  to  be  distinguished  as 


16 


leaders  in  our  history,  have  also  had  their  apprenticeship 
— learned  to  be  leaders,  felt  the  elevation  of  power,  re- 
ceived new  impulses,  prepared  themselves  to  act  with  ad- 
dress and  vigor  in  scenes  of  yet  higher  moment.  Reli- 
gion, too,  has  been  reviving,  and  re-asserting  its  power,  not 
of  course  in  demonstrations  the  most  unexceptionable  or 
respectable,  but  in  such  as  the  times  of  the  Judges  will 
suffer.  It  is  the  wild  chant  of  Deborah,  or  better  still,  it 
is  the  nail  that  was  driven  by  Jael’s  hammer — not  the  oint- 
ment ministered  by  the  graceful  hand  of  Mary.  This  new 
quickening  accomplished,  in  fact,  for  religion,  what  the 
French  wars  accomplished  for  liberty ; it  broke  up  the  age 
of  frost,  and  brought  in  a new  era  of  power.  We  begin,' 
therefore,  shortly  to  discover  that  a new  spring  has  been 
given  to  character.  An  upward  motion  is  visible,  which  up- 
ward motion  has  continued  even  to  the  present  time,  save 
as  the  war  of  the  Revolution  produced  a temporary  decline. 

Pardon  me  now,  if  I venture  to  fill  out  the  view  of  my 
subject,  by  saying  that  New  England  society  is  still  in  the 
transition  state.  Compared  with  some  portions  of  the  old 
world,  and  in  certain  points  of  view,  we  are  still  in  the 
rough — presenting  to  the  eye  a healthy  living  aspect,  snch 
as  the  old  world  cannot  any  where  offer,  but  still  a raw, 
unfinished  aspect,  which  it  remains  for  the  next  century  to 
civilize  and  bring  into  full  ornamental  perfection.  For  as 
our  history  now  begins  to  live  on  its  own  root,  and  to  send 
up  a vitalizing  power  into  the  social  body  ; as  wealth  is  un- 
folded ; as  schools  and  colleges  are  perfecting  their  stand- 
ards of  learning;  as  literature  and  art  advance  1o  maturity, 
we  are  rising  steadily  into  noon,  as  a people  socially 
complete. 

But  the  great  problem  of  American  society  is  not  solved, 
however  much  it  may  be  illustrated,  bv  the  history  of  New 
England.  Still  we  are  rolling  on  from  east  to  west, 
plunging  into  the  wilderness,  scouring  across  the  great 
inland  deserts  and  mountains,  to  plant  our  habitations  on 
the  western  ocean.  Here  again  the  natural  tendencies  of 
emigration  towards  barbarism,  or  social  decline,  are  dis- 
played, in  signs  that  cannot  be  mistaken.  The  struggle 
through  which  we  have  passed,  is  continually  repeating 


17 


itself,  under  new  modifications.  We  see  the  same  experi- 
ment involving  similar  jeopardies  ; and  we  draw  out  of  our 
own  experience  warnings  to  make  us  anxious,  and  en- 
couragements to  make  us  hopeful  for  our  country — a 
double  argument  of  fear  and  hope,  to  make  us  doubly 
faithful  in  our  Christian  efforts  for  its  welfare. 

In  some  respects,  this  westward  emigration  is  secured 
by  advantages  which  our  own  colonial  emigration  had  not ; 
in  others,  it  is  beset  by  disadvantages  quite  as  decided. 
Among  the  advantages  are  these — First,  a better  and  more 
available  market  for  the  sale  of  its  products,  and  hence,  a 
much  greater  facility  in  rising  to  a state  of  outward  com- 
fort. Secondly,  a good  and  well  established  government, 
able  to  protect  the  beginnings  made,  exerting  also  an  im- 
portant moral  constraint  over  all  tendencies  to  lawlessness 
and  public  disorder.  Thirdly,  a connection  with  the  east- 
ern and  older  portions  of  the  country,  by  which  they  are 
made  to  feel  the  moral  effect  of  association  with  a more 
advanced  state  of  manners,  of  social  culture  and  religious 
virtue.  Fourthly,  a history  ; for  it  is  not  as  when  our  fathers 
forsook  a history  to  plant  themselves  in  this  new  world  ; 
but  the  emigrant,  wherever  he  strays,  remembers  that  he 
is  an  American  still.  He  looks  out  from  his  hut  of  logs 
on  the  western  border,  and  feels  the  warmth  of  a distinct 
nationality  glowing  round  him,  like  the  clear  warm  light  of 
day  itself.  On  the  other  hand,  these  manifest  advantages 
are  counterbalanced  by  disadvantages.  First,  the  west- 
ern emigration  is  not  religious,  but  is  instigated  by  mere 
personal  interest  and  adventure.  Secondly,  it  does  not 
carry  with  it  a homogeneous  or  a well  educated  people. 
Together  with  a portion  of  enterprising,  well  qualified 
young  men,  who  are  rushing  westward  after  their  fortune, 
it  gathers  in  the  rude  minded  and  ignorant  masses  of 
western  Pennsylvania;  the  luckless  and  impoverished  fami- 
lies flying  from  slaver)’  in  Virginia,  Kentucky  and  Ten- 
nessee ; together  with  such  hordes  of  foreigners,  as  the 
over-populated  countries  of  Europe  are  obliged  to  spare — 
men  of  all  habits,  characters  and  religions — and  these  it 
pours  along  in  a promiscuous  flood,  to  people  the  new 
world,  and  settle  into  social  order  as  best  they  may.  Then, 
thirdly,  a considerable  portion  of  the  new  west,  has  a 

2 


18 


social  and  historical  connexion  with  slavery,  which  is  con- 
tinually doubling  the  inherent  perils  of  emigration  itself. 

And  here,  since  this  institution  of  slavery,  entering  into 
the  fortunes  of  our  history,  complicates,  in  so  many  ways, 
the  disorders  we  suffer,  I must  pause  a few  moments  to 
sketch  its  characteristics.  Slavery,  it  is  not  to  be  denied, 
is  an  essentially  barbarous  institution.  It  gives  us  too 
that  sign,  which  is  the  perpetual  distinction  of  barbarism, 
that  it  has  no  law  of  progress.  The  highest  level  it 
reaches,  is  the  level  at  which  it  begins.  Indeed,  we  need 
not  scruple  to  allow  that  it  has  yielded  us  one  considerable 
advantage,  in  virtue  of  the  fact,  that  it  produces  its  best 
condition  first.  For  while  the  northern  people  were  gene- 
rally delving  in  labor,  for  many  generations,  to  create  a 
condition  of  comfort,  slavery  set  the  masters  at  once  on  a 
footing  of  ease,  gave  them  leisure  for  elegant  intercourse, 
for  unprofessional  studies,  and  seasoned  their  character 
thus  with  that  kind  of  cultivation  which  distinguishes  men 
of  society.  A class  of  statesmen  were  thus  raised  up, 
who  were  prepared  to  figure  as  leaders  in  scenes  of  pub- 
lic life,  where  so  much  depends  on  manners  and  social 
address.  But  now  the  scale  is  changing.  Free  labor  is 
rising,  at  length,  into  a state  of  wealth  and  comfort,  to 
take  the  lead  of  American  society.  Meanwhile,  the  foster 
sons  of  slavery — the  high  families,  the  statesmen — gra- 
dually receding  in  character,  as  they  must  under  this 
vicious  institution,  are  receding  also  in  power  and  influ- 
ence, and  have  been  ever  since  the  revolution.  Slavery  is 
a condition  against  nature  ; the  curse  of  nature  therefore 
is  on  it,  and  it  bows  to  its  doom,  by  a law  as  irresistible  as 
gravity.  It  produces  a condition  of  ease  which  is  not  the 
reward  of  labor,  and  a state  of  degradation  which  is  not 
the  curse  of  idleness.  Therefore  the  ease  it  enjoys  can- 
not but  end  in  a curse,  and  the  degradation  it  suffers 
cannot  rise  into  a blessing.  It  nourishes  imperious  and 
violent  passions.  It  makes  the  masters  solitary  sheiks 
on  their  estates,  forbidding  thus  the  possibility  of  public 
schools,  and  preventing  also  that  condensed  form  of  so- 
ciety, which  is  necessary  to  the  vigorous  maintenance  of 
churches.  Education  and  religion  thus  displaced,  the 
dinner  table  only  remains,  and  on  this  hangs,  in  great  part, 


19 


the  keeping  of  the  social  state.  But  however  highly  we 
may  estimate  the  humanizing  power  of  hospitality,  it  can- 
not be  regarded  as  any  sufficient  spring  of  character.  It 
is  neither  a school,  nor  a gospel.  And  when  it  comes  of 
self-indulgence,  or  only  seeks  relief  for  the  tedium  of  an 
idle  life,  scarcely  does  it  bring  with  it  the  blessings  of  a 
virtue.  The  accomplishments  it  yields  are  of  a mock 
quality,  rather  than  of  a real,  having  about  the  same  re- 
lation to  a substantial  and  finished  culture,  that  honor  has 
to  character.  This  kind  of  currency  will  pass  no  longer  ; 
for  it  is  not  expense  without  comfort,  or  splendor  set  in 
disorder,  as  diamonds  in  pewter ; it  is  not  airs  in  place  of 
elegance,  or  assurance  substituted  for  ease  ; neither  is  it 
to  be  master  of  a fluent  speech,  or  to  garnish  the  same 
with  stale  quotations  from  the  classics  ; much  less  is  it  to 
live  in  the  Don  Juan  vein,  accepting  barbarism  by  poetic 
inspiration — the  same  which  a late  noble  poet,  drawing  out 
of  Turks  and  pirates,  became  the  chosen  laureate  of 
slavery — not  any  or  all  of  these  can  make  up  such  a style 
of  man,  or  of  life,  as  we  in  this  age  demand.  We  have 
come  up  now  to  a point,  where  we  look  for  true  intellectual 
refinement,  and  a ripe  state  of  personal  culture.  But 
how  clearly  is  it  seen  to  be  a violation  of  its  own  laws,  for 
slavery  to  produce  a genuine  scholar,  or  a man,  who,  in  any 
department  of  excellence,  unless  it  be  in  politics,  is  not  a 
full  century  behind  his  time.  And  if  we  ask  for  what  is 
dearer  and  better  still,  for  a pure  Christian  morality,  the 
youth  of  slavery  are  trained  in  no  such  habits,  as  are 
most  congenial  to  virtue.  The  point  of  honor  is  the  only 
principle  many  of  them  know.  Violence  and  dissipation 
bring  down  every  succeeding  generation  to  a state  con- 
tinually lower  ; so  that  now,  after  a hundred  and  fifty  years 
are  passed,  the  slave-holding  territory  may  be  described  as 
a vast  missionary  ground,  and  one  so  uncomfortable  to 
the  faithful  ministry  of  Christ,  by  reason  of  its  jealous 
tempers,  and  the  known  repugnance  it  has  to  many  of  the 
first  maxims  of  the  gospel,  that  scarcely  a missionary 
can  be  found  to  enter  it.  Connected  with  this  moral  de- 
cay, the  resources  of  nature  also  are  exhausted,  and  her 
fertile  territories  changed  to  a desert,  by  the  uncreating 
power  of  a spendthrift  institution.  And  then,  having 


20 


made  a waste  where  God  had  made  a garden,  slavery 
gathers  up  the  relics  of  bankruptcy,  and  the  baser  relics 
still  of  virtue  and  all-manly  enterprise,  and  goes  forth  to 
renew,  on  a virgin  soil,  its  dismal  and  forlorn  history. 
Thus,  at  length,  has  been  produced  what  may  be  called 
the  bowie-knife  style  of  civilization,  and  the  new  West 
of  the  South  is  overrun  by  it — a spirit  of  blood  which 
defies  all  laws  of  God  and  man  ; honorable  but  not  honest ; 
prompt  to  resent  an  injury,  slack  to  discharge  a debt ; 
educated  to  ease,  and  readier,  of  course,  when  the 
means  of  living  fail,  to  find  them  at  the  gambling-table 
or  the  race-ground,  than  in  any  work  of  industry — pro- 
bably squandering  the  means  of  living  there,  to  relieve  the 
tedium  of  ease  itself. 

Such  is  the  influence  of  slavery,  as  it  enters  into  our 
American  social  state,  and  imparts  its  moral  type  of  bar- 
barism, through  emigration,  to  the  new  west.  Hence,  the 
Mexican  war,  which  has  its  beginning  and  birth  in  what 
I have  called  the  bowie-knife  style  of  civilization — a war 
in  the  nineteenth  century,  which,  if  it  was  not  purposely 
begun,  many  are  visibly  determined  shall  be,  a war  for  the 
extension  of  slavery.  It  was  no  one  political  party,  as 
some  pretend,  who  made  this  war,  but  it  was  the  whole 
southwest  and  west  rather  of  all  parties,  instigated  by  a 
wild  and  riotous  spirit  of  adventure,  which  no  terms  of 
reason  or  of  Christian  prudence  and  humanity  could  check. 
And  if  this  war  results,  as  probably  it  may,  in  the  acquisi- 
tion of  a vast  western  territory,  then  is  our  great  pasture 
ground  of  barbarism  so  much  to  be  enlarged,  the  room 
to  run  wild  extended,  the  chances  of  final  anarchy  and 
confusion  multiplied. 

We  are  now  prepared  to  complete  our  view,  by  passing 
directly  to  the  subject  of  western  emigration  itself.  And 
what  are  the  moral  and  social  results  here  preparing  1 
That  I can  draw  a picture  of  western  society,  which  will 
be  universally  approved,  is  more  than  1 have  any  right  to 
expect.  I can  only  give  such  a sketch  as  the  facts  seem 
to  require,  and  without  exaggeration  ; observing,  however, 
that  if  any  western  man  should  be  dissatisfied,  it  will,  by 
no  means,  convince  me  that  I am  wrong  ; for  to  conceive 


21 


a people  rightly  it  is  not  sufficient  to  know  them  ; they 
must  be  viewed  from  a stand  point  without.  And  just  as 
the  character  of  New  England  cannot  be  rightly  drawn, 
save  as  it  is  viewed  from  abroad,  so  no  western  or  west- 
ernized man,  coming  directly  out  from  the  scenes  of  west- 
ern life,  is  qualified,  on  that  account,  to  estimate  their 
social  standing  and  prospects.  On  the  contrary,  he  may 
even  be  partially  disqualified,  by  the  experience  under 
which  he  has  fallen.  At  the  same  time,  let  it  be  under- 
stood, that  in  what  I may  say,  however  the  public  may  re- 
ceive it,  I do  not  consider  myself  as  reflecting  any  neces- 
sary dishonor  on  the  west,  or  on  western  society.  It  is  no 
dishonor  in  them,  any  more  than  it  was  to  New  Eng- 
land, to  suffer  what  they  must,  from  the  very  laws  of  so- 
ciety itself.  On  the  contrary,  if  the  west  puts  forth  a 
manly  struggle  to  breast  the  laws  of  decline  involved  in  a 
new  social  state,  it  may  even  display  the  more  heroic  quali- 
ties, because  of  the  adverse  elements  it  has  the  spirit  to 
master.  Much  the  same  allowances,  too,  are  to  be  made 
here,  that  were  supposed  to  hold  in  reference  to  the  de- 
cline of  New  England.  It  is  not  general  or  universal.  It 
includes  only  a portion  of  western  society,  and  this  portion 
only  in  regard  to  certain  particulars.  Probably  there  is 
no  decline,  but  an  improvement  rather,  if  we  take  in  all, 
and  regard  what  I have  called  the  total  amount  of  charac- 
ter. Many  of  the  emigrants  from  Pennsylvania,  Virginia, 
and  yet  further  south,  were  at  a very  low  point  of  character 
when  they  removed,  and  these,  brought  within  the  reach 
even  partially  of  schools  and  churches,  are  rapidly  im- 
proving. If  the  emigrants  from  New  England  lose  ground, 
in  manners,  piety  and  habits  of  intelligence,  they  also  gain 
in  spirit,  freedom,  self-reliance,  and  other  qualities  that  are 
certainly  desirable.  Besides,  we  are  making  strenuous 
efforts  to  save  the  west  from  the  decline  that  would  other- 
wise appear ; so  that,  while  there  is  a certain  tendency  to 
barbarism  in  their  new  condition  of  society,  that  tendency, 
we  may  believe,  is  held  in  check  and,  in  many  cases,  dis- 
placed, even  from  the  beginning,  by  signs  of  improve- 
ment. 

Western  cnaracter  has  many  powerful  and  promising 
qualities,  but  it  wants  the  salt  of  religious  virtue,  the  so- 


22 


briety  of  discipline,  and  the  modesty  of  true  intelligence. 
It  is  frank,  bold,  earnest  and  positive,  but  somewhat  rude 
and  extravagant,  and  specially  destitute  of  the  genial  sen- 
timents which  enrich  the  more  settled  and  cultivated  forms 
of  society.  A very  large  portion  of  the  western  commu- 
nity, it  is  well  known,  are  already  so  far  gone  in  ignorance, 
as  to  make  a pride  of  it,  and  even  to  deciy  education  as  an 
over-genteel  accomplishment.  They  hold,  of  course,  their 
manhood  in  their  will,  not  in  their  understanding ; which  is 
the  same  as  to  say  that  law  is  weak,  and  passion  violent. 
Hence,  the  many  public  murders,  committed  in  the  newer 
states  of  the  west  and  south,  which  are  never  legally  in- 
vestigated. Or,  perhaps  you  will  even  see  an  ambitious 
young  city,  mustering  itself  in  a military  mob,  to  murder  an 
inoffensive  Christian  minister  and  citizen  ; and  when  it  is 
done,  when  the  fit  of  passion  is  over,  the  law,  instead  of 
rising  up  to  re-assert  its  rights,  as  we  see  it  do  in  older 
and  less  barbarous  communities,  still  sleeping  in  its  violated 
majesty.  Or,  if  you  will  discover  how  near  it  is  possible  to 
come,  and  within  how  short  a time,  to  a complete  dissolu- 
tion of  civil  order,  you  may  see  the  executive  power  of  a 
a sovereign  state  standing  by,  for  six  months,  to  look  on,  as 
a spectator,  while  two  organized  military  parties  of  its  own 
citizens  are  prosecuting  an  open  war,  one  to  defend,  the 
other  to  capture  an  American  city  ! Where  shall  such 
disorders  stop  ? and  what  is  the  limit  towards  which 
they  run  1 If,  in  the  days  of  the  Judges,  Pennsylvania 
rebelled  against  the  excise  of  whiskey,  and  now  Illinois 
substitutes  the  camp  and  the  siege,  in  place  of  justice  it- 
self and  the  ordinary  methods  of  legal  redress,  what  shall 
by  and  by  appear,  in  some  new  state  as  far  west  of  Illi- 
nois, as  tliat  is  of  Pennsylvania  1 What  are  we  to  expect 
as  this  reign  of  passion,  spreading  onward  across  the  vast 
regions  yet  unoccupied,  grows  yet  more  violent  as  it  is 
deeper  in  ignorance,  and  wilder  still,  as  it  is  more  remote 
from  the  haunts  of  Christian  civilization ! Is  it  not  well 
understood  that  a partially  wild  race  of  men,  such  as  can- 
not any  longer  be  properly  included  in  the  terms  of  civili- 
zation, is  already  formed  ? I speak  of  what  is  sometimes 
called  the  pioneer  race.  They  roll  on,  like  a prairie  fire, 
before  the  advance  of  regular  emigration ; they  have  no 


23 


fixed  habits,  and  do  not  care  to  appropriate  the  soil,  con- 
sequently have  no  education  or  religion.  They  live 
mainly  by  hunting  and  pasture;  and,  when  a regular  set- 
tlement begins  within  an  hour’s  ride,  they  feel  the  proxi- 
mity too  close,  quit  their  hut  of  logs,  which  is  in  fact  only 
their  tent,  and  start  on,  by  another  long  remove,  into  the 
wild  regions  beyond  them.  These  semi-barbarians  too, 
are  continually  multiplying  in  numbers,  and  becoming 
more  distinct  in  their  habits.  Ere  long,  there  is  reason  to 
fear,  they  will  be  scouring  in  populous  bands,  over  the  vast 
territories  of  Oregon  and  California,  to  be  known  as  the 
pasturing  tribes— the  wild  hunters  and  robber  clans  of  the 
western  hemisphere — American  Moabites,  Arabs  and 
Edomites ! 

Or  if  it  seem  extravagant  to  speak  of  any  such  result, 
let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  one  emigrant  family  of  the 
Saxon  race  has  already  sunk  into  barbarism,  since  our 
history  begun.  I speak  of  the  Dutch  Boers  in  South 
Africa.  They  are  Calvinistic  Protestants  ; they  began 
their  settlement  at  Cape  Town,  in  the  year  1651.  And 
now  they  are  virtually  barbarians ; for  they  are  scarcely 
less  wild  in  their  habits  than  the  Hottentots  themselves. 
They  subsist  by  pasture,  roving  from  place  to  place. 
Lynch  law  and  private  revenge  are  the  principal  methods 
of  redressing  injuries.  Their  habits  are  filthy.  Their 
women  do  the  work.  Education  is  forgotten,  and  the  cru- 
elties they  practice  in  their  sanguinary  wars,  are  such  as 
resemble  them  to  beasts  of  prey.  They  are  now  a race 
of  nominally  Christian  barbarians — barbarians  under  the 
synod  of  Dort,  a standing  proof  that  Protestants,  and  they 
too  of  the  Saxon  blood,  may  drop  out  of  civilization,  and 
take  their  place  on  the  same  level  of  ignorance  and  social 
brutality  with  the  barbarous  tribes  of  the  earth.  Let  no 
American  that  loves  his  country  refuse  to  heed  the  ex- 
ample. 

Many  are  accustomed  to  regard  the  exposure  of  our 
western  country  to  Romanism  with  extreme  horror,  re- 
garding a possible  lapse  into  this  corrupt  form  of  religion 
as  the  climax  of  all  possible  disasters.  In  that  opinion 
there  is  quite  as  little  to  approve,  as  there  is  in  the  over- 
confident opinion  of  those  who  declare  that  Romanism 


24 


cannot  spread  in  this  country.  Nothing  is  necessary  to 
make  room  for  Romanism,  but  to  empty  us  of  all  opposing 
qualities ; and  it  will  not  take  a long  period  of  ignorance 
and  religious  anarchy  to  do  that.  Nor  do  I mean  to  im- 
ply, in  thus  speaking,  that  Romanism  can  co-exist  only 
with  barbarism,  much  less  to  sharpen  a point  of  satire 
against  the  Romish  church.  Under  this  we  know  are 
gathered  many  great  and  accomplished  men,  and  many 
nations  farther  advanced,  in  some  respects,  than  we.  I 
only  mean,  that  while  it  is  possible  for  a people  brought 
up  in  Romanism  to  become  socially  advanced  under  it,  a 
free  minded  people,  brought  up  in  mental  and  moral 
habits  wholly  opposite,  never  can  be  led  into  it,  save 
through  the  gate  of  superstition ; which  gate  of  supersti- 
tion never  can  be  opened,  save  by  a loss  of  knowledge, 
social  order  and  religion,  such  as  approximates  to  bar- 
barism. There  may  be  cases  where  a cultivated  man, 
wearied  out  and  lost  in  the  mazes  of  fantastic  speculation, 
throws  up  suddenly  the  prerogatives  of  reason,  and  takes 
it  for  certain  that  God  will  do  him  good,  if  he  has  a Le- 
vite  to  his  priest.  There  may  be  truly  godly  men — men, 
so  to  speak,  of  an  overgrown  religious  sentiment,  who  see 
no  consistent  issue  short  of  Romanism  to  assumpt  ions  alrea- 
dy made,  and  whose  nerves  are  too  weak  to  go  back  and 
manfully  sift  these  assumptions — there  may  be  such,  who 
fall  a prey  to  their  own  delicate  illusions,  and  drop  into  the 
Romish  church  to  settle  their  peace.  But  these  are  only  ca- 
prices, accidents,  idiosyncracies,  which  support  no  general 
conclusion,  save  that  between  opposite  superlatives,!  lie  sub- 
limities and  follies  of  mankind, there  is  often  a natural  bro- 
therhood. Thus,  over-cultivation  may  sometimes  join  hands 
at  the  church  door  with  barbarism,  both  entering  as  fellow 
proselytes  together.  Thus  over-speculation  will  some- 
times throw  up  private  judgment  in  disgust,  and  place 
itself  on  a par,  with  those  who  have  no  private  judgment 
to  lose.  But  the  great  danger  of  Romanism,  the  only 
danger  of  any  moment,  is  from  the  multiplication  of  the 
latter  class — those  who  have  no  private  judgment  to  lose  ; 
and  it  is  a real  danger.  Man  is  a religions  being,  and  if 
he  cannot  come  to  God  through  his  intelligence,  he  will 
come  to  what  sort  of  God  his  superstitions  oiler  him. 


25 


When,  therefore,  I consider  how  certainly  an  ignorant  soul 
is  prepared  to  superstition,  remembering  also  the  vast 
amount  of  ignorance  that  prevails  among  the  western 
people,  I want  no  other  proof  that  superstition  has  already 
a wide  and  terrible  sway  over  the  western  mind.  Or  if  I 
sutler  a doubt,  the  great  Mormon  city  and  temple  rise  as 
proof  visible  before  me — proof,  however,  that  does  not 
accrue  as  against  the  west  alone,  save  that  it  shows  how 
all  fantastic  errors  and  absurdities  will  assuredly  congre- 
gate there.  Who  could  have  thought  it  possible  that  a 
wretched  and  silly  delusion,  like  that  of  the  Mormons, 
could  gather  in  its  thousands  of  disciples  in  this  en- 
lightened age,  build  a populous  city,  and  erect  a tem- 
ple, rivalling  in  grandeur,  even  that  of  the  false  prophet  at 
Mecca  ! And  when  we  see,  in  facts  like  these,  how  readily 
material  may  be  gathered  to  represent  the  times  of  the 
Judges,  it  is  vain  to  imagine  that  Romanism  can  find  no 
affinities  prepared  among  us,  or  that  none  can  be  found, 
who  will  think  it  a religion,  to  have  a Levite  to  their  priest. 
Romanism  can  do  any  thing  in  this  country  which  we  will 
help  it  to  do,  and  we  ought  not  to  complain  if  it  does  no 
more.  Or  if  we  persist  in  training  a barbarous  people 
for  its  use,  let  us  indulge  no  regrets  that  Romanism  gives 
them  such  a religion  as  they  are  capable  of  receiving. 

I have  led  you  thus  over  a wide  field,  and  yet  the  sub- 
ject is  not  exhausted.  But  I can  pursue  the  argument  no 
farther.  If  now  you  ask  what  is  to  be  the  conclusion  of  the 
great  problem  we  have  on  hand  ; shall  we  go  clear,  at  last, 
of  all  these  perils  ; shall  we  rise  into  order,  law,  intelli- 
gence and  religion  ; or  will  parts  of  the  nation  go  down,  at 
last,  below  the  capacity  to  rise  l I care  not  to  answer  that 
question.  Indeed  it  is  a question  to  be  answered,  not  in 
speeches  or  conjectures,  but  by  our  works  ! The  answer 
hangs,  not  on  what  we  may  think  or  reason,  but  on  what 
we  shall  do  ! We  can  make  it  what  we  desire  ; we  can 
make  it  as  bad  as  we  have  power  even  to  fear  ! Enough 
that  we  understand  the  magnificence  of  the  problem,  and 
the  tremendous  perils  incident  thereto,  viz  : that  we  have 
it  on  hand  to  struggle  up,  for  a half  century  or  a century 


26 


to  come,  against  the  downward  currents  of  decline,  and 
bear  up  the  nation  with  us,  into  a settled  condition  of 
Christian  culture  and  virtue  ; which,  if  we  do,  the  critical 
point  of  our  destiny  is  turned.  We  are  then  to  be  the 
most  august  and  happiest  nation  that  has  ever  appeared 
on  earth,  the  leading  power  of  the  world’s  history.  Was 
there  ever  a struggle  offered  to  the  good  and  great  of  man- 
kind, so  fit  to  kindle  enthusiasm,  or  nerve  the  soul  to  pa- 
tient sacrifices  ! 


What,  then,  shall  we  do  1 

First  of  all,  we  must  not  despair.  There  is  no  cause 
for  despair.  Dark  as  the  picture  is  that  I have  given.  I do 
not,  for  one,  suffer  a misgiving  thought.  In  many  por- 
tions of  the  field,  the  crisis  is  already  past.  In  others,  it 
soon  will  be.  And  every  new  state,  or  section  added  to  the 
parts  already  secure,  brings  an  accession  of  aid  and  a 
more  preponderant  weight  of  influence.  Of  the  new  re- 
gions, we  may  say  that  Vermont,  Western  New  York,  and 
a part  of  Ohio,  are  already  gained,  and  are  now  side  by 
side  with  us,  helping  us  to  support  the  downward  pressure 
of  the  emigrant  masses.  We  have  only  to  make  sure,  in 
like  manner,  of  all  the  States  this  side  of  the  Mississippi, 
and  then  the  critical  point  is,  in  my  estimation,  past. 
Much  will  remain  to  be  done  ; but  the  result  will  lx;  sure. 
For  when  once  the  vast  region  this  side  of  the  Mississippi 
is  seen  to  be  ascending  with  us  into  order  and  Christian 
refinement,  the  regions  beyond  will  scarcely  lx;  able  to 
drag  themselves  down  into  anarchy.  The  die  of  our 
destiny  is  cast.  Seeing  then  the  momentous  perils  that 
hang  about  us,  let  them  only  quicken  ns  to  a more  fixed 
and  heroic  devotion.  It  must  be  a faint  heart  that  cannot 
bear  up,  in  a struggle  so  evidently  temporary.  Nothing 
is  more  certain  than  that,  if  we  deserve  to  triumph,  we 
shall  triumph ; and  if  that  be  not  enough  to  sustain  our 
courage,  we  are  worthy  of  no  such  cause  as  this. 

And  what  next?  Wc  must  get  rid,  if  possible,  I an- 


27 


swer,  of  slavery.  It  aggravates  every  bad  tendency  we 
suffer.  We  cannot,  as  American  Christians,  be  at  peace 
with  it  longer.  Not  forgetting  the  moderation  that  belongs 
to  every  just  cause,  we  must  lift  our  voices  against  it,  and 
must  not  desist  from  all  proper  means  to  secure  its  re- 
moval, till  the  work  is  done. 

We  must  also  return,  as  soon  as  possible,  to  a condi- 
tion of  peace,  and  maintain  it,  as  the  only  hope  of  moral 
and  social  progress  in  our  country.  War  is  the  proper 
work  only  of  barbarians — the  bane,  therefore,  of  all  social 
order  and  virtue.  Even  New  England  itself,  as  1 have 
shown  you,  came  near  sinking  into  a fatal  debauchery  of 
character  in  the  wars  she  encountered.  For  a war  exas- 
perates all  the  evils  incident  to  emigration,  postpones  all 
settled  habits,  and  turns  all  sobriety  to  madness. 

If  something  could  be  done  to  civilize  the  manner  of 
American  politics,  to  abate  the  rudeness  of  political  ani- 
mosities, to  establish  candor  and  courtesy  and  dignity  of 
feeling  between  opposing  parties  and  their  leaders,  it 
would  greatly  expedite  the  progress  of  refinement  in  our 
people.  And  I know  of  no  more  ready  or  proper  expe- 
dient, than  for  every  Christian  man  to  look  at  the  most  in- 
terior merits  of  every  cause  or  question,  and  stand  ready  to 
support  the  right,  bear  what  name  it  may. 

Be  it  also  understood,  that  the  sooner  we  have  rail- 
roads and  telegraphs  spinning  into  the  wilderness,  and 
setting  the  remotest  hamlets  in  connexion  and  close  proxi- 
mity with  the  east,  the  more  certain  it  is  that  light,  good 
manners  and  Christian  refinement,  will  become  universally 
diffused.  For  when  the  emigrant  settlements  of  Mine- 
sota  or  of  Oregon  feel  that  they  are  just  in  the  suburb  of 
Boston,  it  is  nearly  the  same  thing,  in  fact,  as  if  they  act-, 
ually  were. 

Education,  too,  is  another  and  yet  more  sacred  interest 
which  we  are  to  favor  and  promote  by  every  reasonable 
means.  Colleges  are  a great  and  pressing  want ; but  we 
want  only  a few.  Indeed,  we  have  enough  already  for 
the  next  twenty  years,  if  only  they  were  fully  organized 
and  sufficiently  endowed.  Subordinate  schools,  and  espe- 
cially rudimental  schools,  are  a much  more  pressing  want ; 
but  these,  in  order  to  have  any  value,  must  be  created  and 


28 


supported  principally  by  the  people  for  whose  benefit  they 
exist.  The  most,  therefore,  which  can  be  done  is  to  stimu- 
late the  demand  for  such  schools,  in  every  convenient 
manner. 

This  brings  me  to  speak,  last  of  all,  of  that  which  is 
really  the  chief,  the  all-important  work,  viz  : to  provide  a 
talented  and  educated  body  of  Christian  teachers,  and  keep 
them  pressing  into  the  wilderness,  as  far  as  emigration  it- 
self can  go.  These  mixing  with  the  families,  and  enter- 
ing into  their  new  struggles,  will  stimulate  the  demand  for 
instruction,  assist  in  the  founding  of  schools  and  acade- 
mies, and  become  the  guardians  of  every  good  interest. 
We  must  throw  ourselves  out,  therefore,  upon  Howe  Mis- 
sions as  the  first  and  sublimest  Christian  duty  which  the 
age  lays  upon  us. 

( Religion  is  the  only  prop  on  which  we  can  lean  with 
any  confidence;  and  Home  Missions  are  the  vehicle  of  re- 
ligion. In  no  form  of  human  society  is  there  any  law  of 
self-support  and  self-conservation.  There  is  no  shape  of 
society,  least  of  all  any  shape  of  new  society,  that  will 
not  rot  itself  dowrn  and  dissolve,  unless  there  descend  upon 
it  from  above,  a conservating  power  which  it  has  not  in 
itself.  Nothing  but  religion,  a'  ligature  binding  society 
to  God,  can  save  it.  No  light,  save  that  which  is  celestial, 
no  virtue  but  that  which  is  born  of  God,  no  powrer  of  mo- 
tivity,  but  that  which  is  drawn  from  other  worlds,  can 
suffice  to  preserve,  compact  and  edify  a new  social  state. 
It  was  religion  that  sustained  and  finally  turned  the  crisis 
of  New  England.  It  was  religion,  dispensed  by  the  old 
Missionary  Society  of  Connecticut,  and  other  sister  insti- 
tutions of  a later  date,  which  finally  turned  the  crisis  of 
Vermont,  Western  New  York,  and  Eastern  Ohio.  Among 
these  later  institutions,  and  as  the  most  vigorous  and 
powerful  too  of  all,  we  are  to  class  the  Home  Missionary 
Society,  for  which  I now  speak — a Society  which  is  now 
hovering  over  Michigan,  Indiana,  Illinois,  Wisconsin, Iowa, 
and  other  new  regions  beyond,  as  once  it  did  over  the 
regions  just  named.  It  has  now  a spiritual  army  six 
hundred  strong,  in  these  fields,  and  waits  to  make  its 
hundreds,  thousands.  For  it  has  undertaken  the  most 
magnificent  work  ever  yet  appropriated  to  any  human 


29 


institution,  with  a zeal  proportioned  to  its  grandeur.  Tn 
this  institution,  for  I speak  this  evening  only  to  its  friends, 
we  are  enlisted,  as  I trust,  with  whatever  of  Christian 
determination  God  permits  us  to  exercise.  Here  we  feel 
that  we  have  the  future  in  our  charge,  and  we  mean  to 
see  the  trust  faithfully  fulfilled.  To  save  this  mighty 
nation  ; to  make  it  the  leading  power  of  the  earth ; to 
present  to  mankind  the  spectacle  of  a nation  stretching 
from  ocean  to  ocean,  across  this  broad  continent ; a nation 
of  free  men,  self-governed,  governed  by  simple  law,  with- 
out soldiers  or  a police  ; a nation  of  a hundred  millions 
of  people,  covering  the  sea  with  their  fleets,  the  land  with 
cities,  roads  and  harvests  ; first  in  learning  and  art,  and 
all  the  fruits  of  genius,  and,  what  is  highest  and  best  of 
all,  a religious  nation,  blooming  in  all  the  Christian  virtues  ; 
the  protector  of  the  poor ; the  scourge  of  oppression  ; the 
dispenser  of  light,  and  the  symbol  to  mankind,  of  the  enno- 
bling genial  power  of  righteous  laws,  and  a simple  Christian 
faith — this  is  the  charge  God  lays  upon  us,  this  we  ac- 
cept and  this,  by  God’s  blessing,  we  mean  to  perform, 
with  a spirit  worthy  of  its  magnitude.  I say  not  that  we 
must  forsake  other  and  more  distant  fields  of  duty.  God 
will  never  call  us  to  that.  I only  say  that  there  can  be  no 
other  duty  at  all  comparable  to  the  duty  of  saving  our  coun- 
try ; none  that  God  so  manifestly  imposes.  What  less 
than  a romantic  folly  could  it  seem,  to  any  sober  mind,  if 
such  indeed  were  the  alternative,  to  be  pouring  out  our 
mercies  into  the  obscure  outposts  of  heathenism,  and 
leaving  this  great  nation,  this  brightest  hope  of  the  ages, 
to  go  down  as  a frustrated  and  broken  experiment ! 

( It  is  time  also  to  understand,  that  if  we  are  to  fill  this 
great  field  with  Christian  churches  and  a Christian  people, 
we  must  have  a spirit  of  life  in  our  breasts,  and  a tone  of 
Christian  devotion  such  as  we  have  not  hitherto  exhibited. 
Here  is  the^bhly  real  cause  of  discouragement  I know. 
It  is  not  money,  it  is  not  men,  it  is  no  mere  human  out- 
lay that  can  bear  up  such  a work  as  this.  We  want  the 
unworldly  spirit;  that  which  knits  us,  and  through  us  knits 
our  great  country  to  God.  And  then  also,  we  want  that 
intense  and  Christ-like  humanity,  which  will  attract  the  feel- 
ing of  our  whole  country  towards  us.  For  it  is  not  in  op- 


30 


positions,  it  is  not  in  raising  a crusade  against  Romanism, 
or  filling  the  air  with  outcries  of  any  sort,  that  we  are  to 
save  our  country.  We  must  rise  upon  it  as  the  morning, 
in  the  tranquillity  of  love.  We  must  rain  righteousness 
upon  it,  as  a genial  shower. 

It  is  beautiful  also  to  see  that  God  designs,  by  the  very 
work  we  undertake,  to  fill  out  and  finish  our  own  Chris- 
tian type  of  character  and  society.  In  the  case  of  our 
fathers,  it  seems  probable  that  nothing  but  the  strong  pil- 
lars of  high  Calvinism  held  them  up,  or  could  have  held 
them  up,  till  the  critical  point  of  their  history  was  passed. 
There  were  no  missionaries  coming  over  unto  them. 
Nothing  could  hold  them  up  but  an  internal  force, 
such  as  they  had  in  these  doctrines — doctrines  that  were 
incorporated  in  their  souls,  as  the  spinal  column  in  their 
bodies.  Thus,  when  their  manners  were  grown  wild, 
their  sentiments  coarse,  and  their  ill-trained  understand- 
ings generally  incapable  of  nice  speculation,  still  the 
tough  questions  of  their  theology  kept  them  always  in 
action ; still  they  could  grasp  hold  of  the  great  iron  pil- 
lars of  election,  reprobation  and  decrees,  and  their  clum- 
sy-lianded  thoughts  were  able  to  feel  them  distinctly. 
Whoever  could  distinguish  a thunderbolt  could  surely 
think  of  these,  and  it  mattered  not  so  much,  whether  they 
thought  exactly  right,  as  that  they  kept  thinking,  and  in 
their  thinking  brought  down  God  upon  their  souls.  So 
they  took  hold  of  the  iron  pillars  that  held  up  the  theo- 
logic  heavens,  and  climbed  and  heaved  in  huge  surges  of 
might,  and  kept  their  gross  faculties  in  exercise,  till  the 
critical  hour  of  their  trial  was  passed.  The  themes  they 
handled  kept  them  too  before  God.  They  dwelt  in  the 
summits  of  divine  government.  They  looked  upon  the 
throne,  they  heard  the  thunders  roll  below,  and  felt  the 
empyrean  shake  above,  at  the  going  forth  of  God’s  de- 
crees. Such  a religion  as  they  had  could  not  be  distant,  or 
feeble.  It  had  power  to  invest  the  coarse  mind  with  a di- 
vine presence,  and  make  Jehovah  felt  as  an  element  of 
experience.  Never  was  there  a better  foundation  for  a 
grand,  massive  character  in  religion  ; and  now  God  means 
to  finish  out  this  character,  by  uniting  in  it  the  softer 
shades  of  feeling,  and  the  broader  compass  of  a more 


31 


catholic  and  genial  spirit.  We  go  forth  now  to  a people, 
who  unite  all  manner  of  opinions,  and  we  go  in  company 
with  Christians  of  other  names  and  other  creeds,  who  are  un- 
dertakers also  in  the  same  great  work.  We  cannot,  there- 
fore, spend  our  strength  now  upon  exclusive  and  distinct- 
ive dogmas,  but  we  must  proceed  in  a catholic  and  com- 
prehensive spirit.  Otherwise  we  shall  be  at  war  with 
each  other,  and  shall  only  spend  our  force,  in  demolishing 
all  the  force  we  have.  ^Thus,  the  Methodists,  for  example, 
have  a ministry  admirably  adapted,  as  regards  their  mode 
of  action,  to  the  new  west — a kind  of  light  artillery  that 
God  has  organized,  to  pursue  and  overtake  the  fugitives 
that  flee  into  the  wilderness  from  his  presence.  They 
are  prompt  and  effective  in  action,  ready  for  all  service,  and 
omnipresent,  as  it  were,  in  the  field.  The  new  set- 
tler reaches  the  ground  to  be  occupied,  and,  by  the  next 
week,  he  is  likely  to  find  the  circuit  crossing  by  his  door, 
and  to  hear  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness, 
“The  kingdom  of  God  is  come  nigh  unto  you!”  Our 
Methodist  brethren  have  put  on  their  armor  too  against 
the  enemies  of  learning  among  themselves.  They  are 
building  colleges,  and  one  among  the  number,  which  they 
mean  to  make  the  most  complete  and  best  endowed  uni- 
versity in  the  west.  If  sometimes  their  demonstrations 
are  rude,  and  their  spirit  of  rivalry  violent,  still  it  is  good 
to  have  such  rivals,  for  their  labor  is  still  ours,  and  when 
they  have  reached  the  state  of  intelligence  they  are  after, 
they  are  sure  to  become  effectually,  if  not  formally,  one 
with  us.  Therefore  let  there  be,  if  possible,  no  contro- 
versy with  them  ; but  let  us  rather  encourage  ourselves  in 
a work  so  vast,  by  the  fact  that  we  have  so  vast  an  army 
of  helpers  in  the  field  with  us.  So  of  all  the  other  Chris- 
tian families,  who  are  going  into  the  field  to  do  a work 
for  their  Master.  There  should  be  not  only  concord  of 
spirit,  but  also  an  actual  understanding ; so  that  we  may 
cover  together  as  much  ground  as  possible.  And  then 
we  should  all  go  forth  together,  to  calm  the  angry  divisions 
of  controversy  and  sweeten  the  bitter  prejudices  of  secta- 
rian strife.  Earnest  for  the  truth,  we  must  also  remem- 
ber, that  truth  itself  is  catholic  and  comprehensiv^fc  We 
must  shun  that  vapid  liberalism,  which  instead  of  mtract- 


32 


ing  us  into  unity,  will  only  dissolve  us  into  indifference, 
and  yet  we  must  be  willing  to  stretch  our  forbearance  and 
charity  even  to  Romanists  themselves,  when  we  clearly 
find  the  spirit  of  Jesus  in  their  life.  In  this  manner,  God 
will  instruct  us  by  our  work,  and  make  our  work  itself 
our  reward.  Engaging  with  our  utmost  ardor  to  save  the 
wilder  portions  of  our  country,  we  shall  carry  on  thus  our 
own  noble  beginnings  to  completiqn,  and  finish  out  a cha- 
racter, as  earnest  in  its  sacrifices  ami  catholic  in  its  chari- 
ties, as  it  is  firm  in  its  original  elements.  May  we  not  al- 
so hope  to  draw  down  from  the  skies,  upon  us  and  upon 
all  the  regions  for  which  we  labor,  such  a baptism  of  love 
as  will  melt  both  us  and  them,  and  all  the  families  of 
Christ  in  our  land,  into  one  Christian  fraternity. 

Thus  will  we  go  on  and  give  it  to  our  sons  and 
daughters  to  come  after  us.  We  will  measure  our  strength 
by  the  grandeur  of  our  object.  The  wilderness  shall  bud 
and  blossom  as  the  rose  before  us  ; and  we  will  not  cease, 
till  a Christian  nation  throws  up  its  temples  of  worship  on 
every  hill  and  plain ; till  knowledge,  virtue  and  religion, 
blending  their  dignity  and  their  healthful  power,  have 
filled  our  great  country  with  a manly  and  a happy  race  of 
people,  and  the  bands  of  a complete  Christian  common- 
wealth are  seen  to  span  the  continent. 


And  now,  Jehovah  God,  thou  who  by  long  ages  of  watch 
and  discipline,  didst  make  of  thy  servant  Abraham  a 
people,  be  thou  the  God  also  of  this  great  nation.  Re- 
member still  its  holy  beginnings,  and  for  the  fathers’ 
sakes,  still  cherish  and  sanctify  it.  Fill  it  with  thy  Light 
and  thy  Potent  Influence,  till  the  glory  of  thy  >^on  breaks 
out  on  the  western  sea,  as  now  upon  the  eastern,  and 
these  uttermost  parts,  given  to  Christ  for  a possession, 
become  the  bounds  of  a new  Christian  Empire,  whose 
name  the  believing  and  the  good  of  all  people  shall  hail 
as  name  of  hope  and  blessing ! 

t 


III 


